


Stone Cold White

by hjm52



Category: Bleach
Genre: Boredom, Gen, Really short Drabble format, being locked in a tower, questionable sanity, rapunzel references, thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjm52/pseuds/hjm52
Summary: When will it stop hurting when I pinch myself?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Orihime was stuck in a white cell for a long period of time. She probably spent a lot of time in her head. She was also likely malnourished, in a stressful environment and had previously used flights of fantasy as a safety mechanism. This does not make one particularly sane.
> 
> Best read using "Entire Work" format.

Shocking things happen in the subconscious. Shocked that things happen in the subconscious? Shocked unconscious?

No? Not today?

Suit yourself.


	2. Chapter 2

Orihime. Weaver Princess. 

That's symbolic; like from Sora's stories from Europe. That girl, the one locked in a tower. She waited for her hair to grow and plotted everyday. She did not await rescue but the right moment.

(Does this Weaver Princess have time?)

Yet rescue arrives anyway; along comes a princely knight with shining armour and a people-saving mindset.

(A prince. The Weaver Princess must have a prince.)

(There is a prince—

But is he her prince?)

Rescue is not so easily achieved. Her tower is guarded by a mighty dragon- or is it a sorcerer? The prince must fight it to the death.

(But would he? Would any of them?)

(Isn't keeping her prince away from the dragons what she wanted?)

Finally, their happy ending. True love kisses and bright futures.

(This part she is sure of. If her prince rescues her, it will be proof enough that he loves her.)

-

(As for stories, this one has already been told.

Ichigo's lost princess; dressed in angel white and pitted against the afterlife, locked in a white tower for something more powerful than imagined. Put there through self-sacrifice and a plot concocted by the villainous Aizen.

Ichigo saved his lost White Snow Princess last time.)

(But is this Weaver Princess worth it?)


	3. Chapter 3

I'm hungry—I'm tired—I'm cold—

I tower.

-

I am sinking into the stone cold white floor, seeing only white stone and waiting for the cold white man. My cold white man, though I'm definitely more his then he mine.

I'm everyone's really; Tatsuki's best friend, Sora's little sister, Ichigo's second lost princess, Uryū's....craft club friend?

—No! He's more than that— Fellow inter-dimensional adventurer, Quincy.

-

They're mine too though, aren't they? Supports. The universe was built on the mutual support called gravity. I am made of support therefore I support and have support.

Do you support this theory?


	4. Chapter 4

Messiah.

Ichigo- that word, remember? 

-

The light from the window is constantly searing searing from the stone cold white everything else in this room. I'll go blind if—Ichigo—my rescuers—I take too long. Of course, I'll heal the damage when the time comes. What use would I be blind?

I'd be stone cold and white. 

(Am I not already?)

-

The cracks on the ceiling above the cot in the corner remind me of a lizard of some sort. A dragon, maybe. Or a dinosaur.

-

I can't quite count my heartbeats; I can feel them against the hard floor, but count them? Noooooo. There's nothing more confusing than counting the uneven beat of a heart—my heart. Nothing more confusing than counting at all.

Like days. Try counting days, will you? Mark them against the bedroom wall with a red pen on your calendar. Check off the forgotten days after they leave.

Or don't. Days slip by fast, don't they? They promise eternity and then POOF! There they go! In my white world, time is relative. Who cares for days when you can sleep and wake as you like?

-

(I'm hopeless.  
Couldn't hope for less.)


	5. Chapter 5

Can you remember the waning moon, Sora? 

Did you see it too?

-

In my room there are white walls. Stone cold white. Sterile. 

Like a hospital. There isn't a hospital in Karakura. We have clinics. Tiny friendly personalized family-run businesses. There were bright coloured charts and red flavoured lollipops- the ones that Ichigo once smuggled to school to share when we were ten- and flowers in the windows during the spring and summer months. I never even saw a stone cold white hospital until Sora was sent there—

NO

-

I want paints. 

The walls are blank. Like a canvas. Smooth. Good for light paints. The little finger paints- perfect; I want those. I need texture and lines and soft oranges against pale pink for sunsets and blues for sunny skies and green trees and the little white daisies dotted with yellow centres. I need a needle- I could prick myself and use blood like those funny messages Urahara used to send. Like my fingers are both the tube of paint and the brush. No need for a needle- my teeth work just fine. I once read that if our brains stopped telling us not to, we could bite through our fingers like carrots.


End file.
